


'Creepy Basement'

by hennethgalad



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-09
Updated: 2016-12-09
Packaged: 2018-09-07 11:51:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8799796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hennethgalad/pseuds/hennethgalad
Summary: Annatar tries to seduce Thranduil





	

 

 

                     Creepy Basement. 

  
   Thranduil looked up in irritation as a small shower of flaking plaster fell onto his hair and into his wine. The entire roof of the Hall would soon collapse, his father was even now entertaining a buyer, a conspicuously rich elf who had come in from the east leading a train of mules laden with fine fabrics, bright jewels and haunting perfumes.

   His mother, sitting beside Thranduil, beckoned to an attendant, who took his goblet and brought him a fresh one.

   'Try to be discrete, my dear.' said his mother, as he tried to brush off the rubble. He leaned forwards as if to adjust his boot and shook the plaster from his hair. As he looked up he caught the eyes of the buyer, whose name was Annatar. He had the impression that the buyer had seen the whole thing and was laughing at him. He blushed and gritted his teeth; it was awful being pale, the least emotion lit up the skin.

   The buyer was not pale; he had deep golden-brown skin, his golden-yellow eyes were bright against it, and his rich golden hair made him seem like a statue, a golden statue, gleaming and perfect. For Annatar was the loveliest creature that Thranduil had ever set eyes upon, and he found that it was very difficult to look away.

  
   The stranger was reclining on a couch talking to Oropher, his long limbs clad in sleek, form-fitting silk, a strange new fabric he had brought from the east. It was black, yet irridescent as the wing of an insect, shimmering green and purple as Annatar moved. His tunic, of the same thin fabric, looked loose, but seemed to cling to his body, moulding itself around every muscle as if it were armour.

   Without turning his gaze from Thranduil's eyes, the stranger murmured something to Oropher, who bowed and turned to Thranduil.

   'My son, our guest wishes to see the whole of Amon Lanc, naturally, and suggested you guide him.'

   Thranduil felt a slight chill of apprehension, but rose smoothly to his feet and bowed to the stranger 'Of course father, it would be my pleasure.'

   Annatar seemed to float to his feet, Thranduil had not seen such fluid movement from anyone, even among dancers, and he loved to watch the dancing. Annatar smiled at Thranduil.

   'The pleasure will be mine. From the topmost tower to the deepest basement.' Thranduil bowed again and gestured toward the door. Annatar floated past. It was unnerving; he was tall, broad, muscled like a blacksmith, but he moved like a swan. Wishing he had listened to his mother in his youth, Thranduil wondered if it was too late to learn to dance. 

  
   Annatar was fascinated by everything, full of questions, and most disappointed to learn that there were no secret passages or tunnels of any kind.

   'We've never needed anything like that. There is the main gate and a small postern on the east wall, but there is no other entrance. As far as we know its solid rock beneath.'

   Thranduil turned to look at Annatar and once again found himself right up against him; throughout their tour of the towers and halls, every time he turned, he had found himself pressed up against Annatar. He was beginning to feel flustered, the blush never quite fading.

   'These stairs lead to the lowest level, there is only the empty old wine cellar, and, well, oddments, nobody really... its so far down you see, we moved all the wine and then...'

   He held up the lantern at the bottom of the stairs. Cobwebs hung like ghoulish banners from every beam and ledge, empty crates and barrels cast strange flickering shadows, the air was silent, clammy and cold.

  
   Annatar's hand was suddenly on his shoulder, the long fingers laid across his throat. He jumped and flinched away. Annatar's exquisite face smiled mockingly 'Well.' he said 'This is a creepy basement !'

 

 


End file.
